My whole body is shaking.
There is shouting outside my ground-floor Brooklyn apartment. From my window, I see a young white cop I know training a gun on a Black man, who is yelling from just a few feet away. The officer is not in uniform but has hung his gold badge around his neck. The gun — a department-issue Glock 19 — is angled slightly down, and the cop is backing up slowly while telling the man to “get away from the knife” and “get on the ground.”
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Chills, by Lauren Wolfe to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.